No, this isn’t a blog post about the things that go bump in the night.
Every home has its unique sounds. The sound of ice dropping into the bin in the freezer. The click of the dishwasher as it switches modes after we’ve settled in the for the night. The slight creak of the loose closet door after I’ve hung too many heavy sweaters on it for too long.
There’s another sound in our home. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Last week I was speaking to my mom on my way to work, as I often do to pass the time around the beltway. She asked about when Gary would be receiving his next infusion (which is delayed due to the timing of his 2nd COVID Vaccine – a small price to pay for safety). She asked if he was getting better or worse and as I explained that I actually think he’s getting worse, I began to describe the sound of Gary’s footsteps as he moves about our home. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Step. Thump. Step. Thump. Step. Thump. I described how I hated the sound. How it enters my ears and then lives in my gut.
She wanted to understand the issue. I explained. Then she suggested I blog about it.
During COVID we haven’t seen many of you, but we have described in our blogs and fundraising posts that Gary’s mobility continues to decline due to his MS. The change in his gait is noticeable when you see him. It’s a step, then a swing of his right leg to get it up, around and back on the ground. That foot lands with such force. Predictable but uncontrolled. Stubborn man doesn’t use his cane as much as he should – but that’s OK.
We spend most of our time in our home. Thanks COVID. A small split-level. Most of our activities occur on the main floor but we have a great multi-purpose room downstairs with play room and gigantic TV so we hang down there too. Laundry is down there. The desk is down there, etc. When I’m down there, you’d think my mind would wander to sunny days and social parties…but then Thump.
More than seeing, I’ve come to understand Gary’s pain level, how easy/hard his day has been, how easy/hard his day WILL be based on the Thump. Thump. Thump.
Out of sight out of mind, right? The comfort spot for a care partner. With two crazed kids, silence really is golden. I even enjoy the pitter-patter of their small footsteps through the house. The big jumps off of furniture that always make me pause for a moment to listen for a cry. The crash of toys. But the Thump. I hear it. I hate it. A constant reminder of the take.take.take of multiple sclerosis.
And I’m not even the one living with MS.
Gary's Gang 